


Patient Care

by optimustaud



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: parental Arima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5534126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimustaud/pseuds/optimustaud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Tsukiyama Raid Arima comes to visit Haise in the Hospital</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patient Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fineinthemorning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning/gifts).



There was blood on the pillow.  
  
It was the first thing Arima noticed when he arrived at the small hospital room where his charge was recovering.  He felt a hot stab of irritation lance through him when he realized that no one on the hospital staff had taken the time to clean Haise up.  The Tsukiyama raid had finished hours ago. It looked like they had simply dumped the injured man on the bed and left him to recover on his own.  In a way Arima understood; there had been too many  investigators injured during the raid and none of them had the advantages of a ghouls regenerative abilities. All the same, something about the way Haise had been left on his own unsettled Arima.  
  
Arima drug the visitors chair over to Haise’s bedside and examined his face.  The smell of blood clung to the room and Arima found it more comforting than the sharp scent of hospital antiseptics.  The tourniquet around Haise’s missing arm had been removed and the sleeve had been cut back. He could see the exposed tissue pulsating grotesquely beneath the probes that had been attached to it.  
  
Someone had clearly been in this room to attach the probes to the new growth of flesh.  The CCG doctors hadn’t bothered to make sure Haise was comfortable, but they  made certain they would be collecting data from him.  
  
  Haise’s skin was almost grey and there were dark bags around his eyes.  The half-ghouls healing powers may have been amazing, but they did nothing to protect him from the effects of extreme exhaustion and stress.  Arima hadn’t seen Haise look so pitiful since he had first brought him to the CCG all those years ago.  
  
Arima remembered how sick and vulnerable Haise had been back then.  The physical damage to his brain had healed within days, but it had taken months for Haise to regain anything resembling conscious awareness.  The half-ghoul had been firmly locked inside his own head.  Arima would have liked to think it was for the best.  In those early days Haise had been passed around the research staff like the medical curiosity he was.  Arima had never bothered to find out what had happened behind closed doors in those early months.  At first he simply hadn’t cared, later he stopped himself from finding out the truth because he was afraid of his own reactions.  
  
Haise recovered in stages, oscillating between moments of complete silence and moments of incoherent babbling.   Arima was the first to notice a pattern to Haise’s ramblings; when Haise was afraid he would count or recite poetry; when he was happy he would have conversations with people who weren’t in the room, and when he was sad he would cry silently.    
  
 On those bad days when Haise was locked too deeply inside his own mind or when the half-ghoul was fighting the staff in a fit of hysterics it was Arima who was able to calm him. The remedy was surprisingly simple.  Arima would read to him.  At first the investigator would recite Hakushuu poems.  As Haise learned to recognize Arima’s voice the investigator was able to expand his repertoire. Arima soon had a large collection of Japanese poetry.  
  
Eventually Haise regained consciousness. Something of the experience must have stayed with Haise because the sound of the reaper’s voice never lost its power to calm the wounded man while he recovered.    
  
He was far too conscious of his own nature to deny that he enjoyed the control he had over the other man. The truth was, a life time spent turning his body into the perfect weapon had left him with a deep need for discipline in all aspects of his existence.  He would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by the challenge the half-ghoul presented, both as a student and as a potential challenger.  
  
Something about his strange relationship with Haise was different than dominating an enemy on the battlefield.  Arima wasn’t sure that he understood it completely himself.  Haise’s blind trust in him filled him with a strange sense of apprehension and pride; apprehension at how easy it would be for him to break that trust, and pride in the fact that Haise had chosen him.  No one else at the CCG knew Haise half as well as Arima did. Holding on to Haise was like cradling an ice crystal in between his hands; hold it to hard and it would melt, don’t hold it firmly enough and it would be blown away in the next strong breeze.  
  
It was nothing Arima had ever experienced before.  He liked the tremulous new feeling growing inside of him.  He wanted to hold on to it for as long as he could.  
  
Haise stirred on the bed, a knot forming between his eyebrows. Without thinking Arima stretched out his hand and laid it across the other mans brow.  “Go back to sleep,Haise.”  The bloodied man huffed and his frown deepened.  
  
It was the first time in a long time Arima’s voice had failed to calm Haise.  The investigator felt something heavy and hollow growing in the pit of his stomach.  He had come to the hospital knowing how deeply the loss of Shirazu would be felt by Haise. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find when the other man woke.  
  
Haise woke slowly, his eyes flickering as they fought sleep. Arima withdrew his hand before the other man could come all the way around.  Finally, Haise inhaled deeply and opened his eyes all the way.  He gazed at the ceiling of the hospital room for a moment.  Then he shuddered hard enough to shake the mattress.  
  
Arima reached out and firmly grabbed Haise’s wrist before he could rise from the bed.  “Haise,” he said softly to get the other man’s attention.  
  
Haise looked at him blankly and for the first time in many years Arima felt fear.  Something was very, very wrong.  The look cleared as Haise sat up, wires trailing from his healing arm.  
  
“Arima-san,” he said hoarsely.  “What are you doing here?”  
  
Arima poured Haise some water from the carafe sitting on the nightstand.  “I came to check on the situation.”  
  
Haise took the glass from Arima and sipped it slowly.  He cleared this throat with a grunt and set the glass back down. He considered Arima warily for a moment before launching into a summary of what had happened during the raid.  
  
It was a perfect military report; straightforward and to the point.  Haise delivered the details in a deadpan monotone.  It was wrong. Haise had never been able to separate his emotions from the job.  He should have been crying or showing some signs of distress over the loss of Shirazu.  He should have shown some upset over the deaths of all those investigators.  That hollow feeling in his stomach grew more with each sentence that passed Haise’s lips.  
  
Arima waited until the injured man finished speaking. He was at a complete loss as to how to deal with this new Haise.  He dragged up every memory of his interactions with the man combing through all the ways he knew to ease Haise when he was upset.  
  
There was one thing Arima knew was guaranteed to work.  He reached out and gently cupped Haise’s left cheek.  
  
Haise stiffened and his eyes widened in surprise.  A small, trembling breath of air passed his lips.  The surprise in Haise’s eyes faded after a moment.  “Arima-san?”  Haise sounded so small and helpless, not much different than when he had first started to speak during his recovery.  The injured man’s eyes were suspiciously bright, shining with a raw desperate need that Arima could not identify.  
  
Arima didn’t know what Haise wanted in that moment so he made his best guess.  He rubbed his thumb along the ridge of Haise’s cheekbone.  “You did well today Haise,” he said.  
  
Haise exhaled deeply and something in him seemed to ease.  Arima watched Haise for a moment until he was satisfied that his odd behavior had passed.  Then he drew his hand away from Haise’s cheek.  
  
“I’ll find you a nurse.  You will probably have to stay put until your arm finished healing.” Arima drew away from the bed and back towards the door.  
  
“Understood,” Haise’s voice still sounded off.  Something had changed that night and Arima knew that eventually he would have to examine the full ramifications of that change.  Maybe once Haise had a chance to grieve for Shirazu things would settle.  
  
He was opening the door when Haise spoke again.  “Arima-san.” the investigator turned to face the man on the bed. Haise sighed deeply and seemed to curl in on himself.  “Thank you,” he said almost too quietly for Arima to hear.  
  
Arima nodded and closed the door behind him.  It was enough for now.


End file.
